


One Night In North End

by Astharoze



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to one night stands, M/M, Sleepy Sex, somnophillia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astharoze/pseuds/Astharoze
Summary: Messy sleepy morning-after Fugue Feast sex in which Corvo considers his life choices and is pretty okay with them, actually.





	One Night In North End

**Author's Note:**

> i'm easily influenced this is for Laur  
> this isn't beta'd i wrote it in 3 hours before DND don't @ me

It was easy to find places to crash and fuck during Fugue Feast. Especially in a year with mounting political unrest, whispers of Regenters meeting in Dunwall and conspiring against Emily. Everyone wanted to forget about their trouble during Fugue, and Corvo was certainly no exception. He and Emily had spent the weeks up to Fugue arguing over her responsibilities, how to handle the Regenters, and as always, taxes. They would debate, constantly, since the moment Emily was old enough to perfect her mother’s trademark eyebrow raise.

They agreed: she could leave the tower during Fugue. So could he. She had a sword of her own, a wristbow tucked into her jacket sleeve, and an itchy trigger finger. She could handle herself.

Besides. Corvo knew she’d be spending it with Wyman.

So he’d felt no qualms about letting her go, and heading off on his own. A high collar, a cat-shaped mask, and no one had looked at him twice on his way to a bar on North End that he’d heard was serving drinks made with roses. 

He certainly remembered getting there. And that the drink tasted wonderful. He remembered being made as Lord Protector, challenged to a sword fight for his honor, and so much laughter. He does not remember how he wound up in a bed, too-warm and damp from sweat, breathing in the smell of someone’s skin.

It had been years since he’d last gone out for Fugue, found someone, fucked them. Decades. Since before Emily, before he and Jessamine realized what they felt for each other. It had been so long, a spike of panic woke him properly. A chill crept down his spine, his head lifting away from the soft, damp skin of the other man’s nape. 

He felt the man shift, his head tipping forward and his arm curling around Corvo’s, still wrapped tightly to his chest. He smelled of alcohol and ocean salt, with a tang that nagged in the back of Corvo’s mind. The smell of him was so inviting. The feel of him was even more so, sturdy and scarred. Corvo skated his lips over the man’s neck, found a mark he’d left there only hours before, and smirked. 

As he pressed his mouth to skin and seared another bruise into the mystery man’s neck, he felt a shift, a rumble, and heard the most delicious, slow moan as his bedmate stretched. The man tipped his head just so, mussing streaked-white hair even further, baring his neck for more kisses. It was a moment of warmth and tenderness he hadn’t had in so long, filling him with want for more. HIs fingers untangled, arm slipped free of the other man’s grasp, and skated a warm palm down his side. He savored the shiver, the arch of hips and spine. His hand moved, found the man’s cock half-hard and somehow warmer than his thighs. 

Another half-awake stretch, another low moan, and Corvo wrapped his fingers around the man’s short, fat cock and sucked another mark to his shoulder. He was rewarded with rough gasps, tensed shoulders, a sleepy murmur he couldn’t make out. The man’s voice was like warm honey in strong tea. Who was he? Where did Corvo find him? He arched up just enough to see his face, and paused. 

He felt another cold, hard spike of realization at the sight of Daud, older and grayer and yet somehow still as sturdy and strong as thirteen years ago. He stared at him in disbelief, hand going still. 

The eye framed by that trademark scar opened, dark gray and still soft with sleep. Daud made another soft sound, lips parted, breath going still.

“Did we fuck?” Corvo grunted, hand still settled on Daud’s bare thigh.

“Mhm,” he purred, with the nerve of someone refusing to fully wake up.

Corvo processed. It was fugue. Time and space were...optional. Flashes of the night before sparked across his nerves, reminding him of the feel of Daud under his hands. In his mouth.

Corvo shivered. 

“Want to go again?”

Daud’s eye opened again, this time with an arched brow. Daud smirked. Corvo slid back down on the bed and found the bruise he’d been darkening earlier, bit into it rougher than before, and heard Daud moan harder, louder, easier. 

He spent a few long minutes kissing, marking, biting Daud’s shoulders. The spread of them was far too wide, far to strong to be real. His hips felt heavy and thick under Corvo’s hands, his breathing slowing down to something more comfortable. All of Daud was somehow larger than Corvo remembered, and the Lord Protector wanted to mark every inch of him. Claim him, in some way. Make a point.

The bluster of that was blown out of him as he realized Daud had fallen asleep, eyes closed and body lax in Corvo’s hands. He huffed, brow knitting together. And then smiled, lips catching the shell of Daud’s ear as he took hold of his cock again, held him firm and stroked him how Corvo liked it himself. 

He felt another low shudder, heard another sleepy groan. Corvo nipped just behind Daud’s ear and played with the soft, taut skin caught under Daud’s tip, all of him full and flushed and pulsing with his heartbeat. It was so easy to pull Daud to his chest, to press his own erection to Daud’s back and keep his pace firm and steady.

Who knew a man so reserved, so serious, could make such sweet sounds when he moaned? Daud’s breath came rough into the pillow, his fingers fumbling for Corvo’s side. As Corvo’s thumb teased his slit, Daud whimpered, and Corvo felt himself twitch.

“Corvo,” he gasped, thick with sleep and lust, and Corvo felt the urge to take him apart, to make him beg. His hand went tight around Daud’s base, holding him still, biting at his shoulder.

“Yes?” He teased, soft, just a whisper.

“Ah,” he started, just a sound. “Mm, hurry up and fuck me.”

Corvo felt a laugh in his chest, smirked as he felt around under the pillows. There was a vial of something in the bed, wrapped in a sheet, his fingers cold glass. It wasn’t long before they were wet, slick with elixir, and he slipped two easily into Daud only to get a broken moan in return. He was still open, still wet, and the thought that it hadn’t been long since they last fucked made Corvo burn. 

How long he spent like that, he didn’t care. Daud made the sweetest sounds, squirming on the bed for him, kicking a leg and pulling at the sheets. One arm bracketed his broad, beautiful chest and the other worked him open, two fingers pressing against his walls just so. Daud keened. Shuddered. He pawed helplessly at Corvo’s shoulder and went tight, whined so beautifully Corvo had to wonder if this was still the same man from over a decade ago. 

“Close,” he choked, and Corvo’s fingers slipped free. The sound of helpless agony Daud gave him was worth a brick of gold. 

If this wasn’t some kind of vindication, some kind of penance for what he’d been through, Corvo wouldn’t believe it. Here was Daud, Knife of Dunwall, famed assassin, curled onto his side and nearly begging for it. Helpless.

He wanted to hear it. He wanted Daud to beg, to ask for it, to say please and thank him and fall apart full of Corvo’s cock. 

“Ask for it. Nicely.” He felt Daud’s hair stand on end, saw the blush in his ears and neck.

When Daud didn’t speak, didn’t say what he wanted to hear, Corvo rocked his hips against the man’s lower back, nipped at his ear. “Come on, Daud. I want to hear it.”

“Fuck. Fuck me. Corvo.”

“Say please. Beg me for it. You need it, I can see it.” 

There was a gentle silence in the moments between, Daud’s panting softer, time feeling like it had well and truly stopped. Corvo’s fingers smoothed over the taut skin between Daud’s thighs, up behind his knee. “No one will hear. Just you and me. I know how badly you want this. I can see it, all over your face.” 

Daud looked pained, the color in his cheeks spreading down his back. He was beautiful. Head to toe, he truly was. Stunning. Corvo took him in hand, made him arch, made him sing. “Say it. Come on, Daud.”

“Fuck,” the older man gasped, and Corvo’s hand smacked Daud’s ass firmly, on instinct.

Daud moaned and jolted so suddenly Corvo would never forget the sight of it. And then he begged.

“Please, please-- just. Fuck me. Corvo, please-” he whispered it, words tumbling from his lips quick and desperate. “Please, I need you to--”

It was so easy to slide in, to fill him to the hilt again, to press in deep with one hand on Daud’s stomach to hold him steady. They moaned together, gasped together, fell together in a rhythm as Daud keened his name, muttered it softly as he pressed back into every push of Corvo’s hips. One strong hand held Corvo’s shoulder, and who started the kiss didn’t really matter. Corvo flicked his tongue against Daud’s as they fell apart in the heat of the room.

He found Daud’s cock again, thick and so heavy in his fingers, and wondered what it would feel like inside him. Wondered if he could keep Daud here for all of Fugue, have his way with the man, take out a decade of emotions in hickies and scratch marks and mind-blowing orgasms. Corvo sucked at Daud’s neck and growled, pumped him slow and tight, matched his pace until he couldn’t even think.

“Corvo,” he heard, softer than ever, needing release. Daud felt almost fragile in his hands, his erection so hot and full, his thighs quivering.

“Daud. Void, Daud.”

One more push, and Daud spilled in his hand, arched and gasped wet and broken. The room spun, felt gray and distorted, and Corvo followed with a heavy moan and nails biting into Daud’s hip.

They came around. Daud mouthed something into his shoulder, eyes still closed. 

“Mm?”

“Said. It’s morning. No bells yet.”

“Stay.”

“Mmhm,” he confirmed, arm tight around Corvo’s waist.


End file.
